Nations these Days
by verfens
Summary: America has been isolationist for over 100 years. What the other nations don't know is that he's been sneaky, and has met them all under a carefully constructed mask. Encounter 4: Switzerland approves of his neutrality, but disapproves of his hesitance. America- speak up!
1. Spain

Nations these Days

Spain: 1898

A/N: Hello! I'm Alex, and I'm reposting a lot of Lacey's old fanfics. I'm pleased to let you know that I will probably finish a lot of them!

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It had been many years since Spain had traversed to the Caribbean and his colonies in the Americas. He found that, despite the fact he was only here to defend his own from the young nation of the United States, he enjoyed the humidity in the air, and the carefree attitude.

He was a little guilty at the poverty that his people were living in, and the young nation of Cuba was a little frightened at the prospect to going to war with a nation who had defeated the other who owned a third of the globe- the British Empire. Spain assured his colony that Spain was better, stronger than England, even though he wasn't sure of that himself.

The USS Maine had exploded in a Cuban harbor, and while Spain had no proof it hadn't been the people of Cuba or his soldiers, he believed the young colony when he said it wasn't his fault. America, however, had pushed his own opinion of what happened to the ship to the forefront, and foolishly attacked an older, more experienced nation and his colonies.

Not that Spain was all too surprised. America was a young boy- eating whatever his bosses fed him still. At least, he believed so. He didn't quite know for sure because soon after the War of 1812, he had cut himself off from the rest of the world with the Monroe Doctrine, and privately forbade any nation from seeking out his company while also preventing more colonization in what had become _his _hemisphere.

How greedy of him.

He looked forward to meeting the boy when he won. Perhaps even taunting him for his sheer guts.

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Spain, however, was not winning an easy battle. In fact, he was losing miserably. "Damn." He cursed in Spanish.

It was because of those god-forsaken "Rough Riders." Led by the powerful, war mongering Theodore Roosevelt, the Vice President of America.

They had taken this battle into their own hands. And Spain was losing because of it.

"Give up, Spanish _fiend!" _Roosevelt said smugly, pointing the end of his gun at him with a cocky grin.

Spain half wished that he knew who he was speaking to. There was a young man standing behind him, with crooked, cracked glasses staring curiously at Spain.

He didn't...feel human. His eyes were a bright blue, and his hair was the color of wheat fields. He didn't quite look 18.

"Come on, Alfred. Snap out of it!" One of the other guys called, and the boy-Alfred- laughed heartily. A great big, obnoxious laugh. Spain almost rolled his eyes.

No way this kid was who he thought he was.

"Sorry guys, thought I recognized him from somewhere!" He laughed again. "Guess I was just crazy!"

A round of laughs went around this group of rough riders, and Spain gave them all dark glares.

Theodore lowered his gun, and looked at him with suspicion. "What's your name, soldier?" He asked firmly.

"Antonio Carriedo." He snarled. Maybe he shouldn't have done that, as they all forced him down. Not particularly wanting to get hurt, he stayed there. Roosevelt, however, didn't move, only looking at him thoughtfully.

"Alfred, can I see you?" He called, and the boy looked up at him with curiosity.

"Sure, sir." He gave a crooked smile, not unlike his glasses, and they went off a distance away from them, out of earshot.

No more than five minutes passed before they came back, Alfred watching him carefully and Roosevelt resigned. "Let him go." The men groaned. "He's worthless to us."

They asked why.

"Come on, you heard the man." Alfred spoke up, looking shifty. "Let him go." The boy rubbed the bridge of his nose underneath his cracked spectacles.

Theodore leaned down, to whisper into Spain's ear. "We know who you really are, Carriedo. And we suggest you get the hell outta dodge."

Spain didn't bother looking back.

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"Sir!" His troops yelled as he got back to their camp in the swamps of Cuba.

Spain was humiliated, and scared. One of his commanding officers came up to him. "Sir. I'm afraid we've lost this war." He murmured. "The Americans have us outgunned. We have to retreat." Spain barely heard his soldier.

He had to go see England. Find out about this boy Alfred.

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How had such a young nation beaten him?

Spain was drinking some alcohol at a club in South America, not particularly wanting to go home. He grumbled. Most nations that young, were either under protection of another, or had been destroyed. But America was proving to be rather...resilient.

He had lost Philippines, Guam, Puerto Rico, and Cuba. All to America. The little shit was building his own mini empire in 'his' hemisphere.

No one owned their own _hemisphere_.

And how had he known to go straight for Spain's wallet? He was now in depression, even. That was, well, depressing. He sneezed. Spain normally had a cheery disposition, but it was hard to be optimistic when America had kicked his ass.

He wished Romano was here.

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A/N: So what happened was that someone reported me. I had this story taken down and now it's back up! Horray! But for the loser that did this, I hope you know you're the reason Lacey took down her multi-chaptered stories.


	2. Denmark

Nations these days

A/N: Encounter 2: Denmark knew the kid needed help, so he made sure the kid knew how to be a proper diplomat.

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"Wow, this is exciting! Thomas, can you believe that Denmark acknowledges me as a nation!?" The young America was dancing around in his coat, fiddling with the ends of it, and Thomas Jefferson watched the boy with light amusement. "I can't believe you are letting me go to his house! It's been ages since I've seen another nation!"

Dolly Madison, bless her heart, was struggling to brush the young countries hair. "Can you please hold still, young sir!" The President looked at Dolly with sympathy. The young nation had always been a little hard to control. He remembered vividly the first day Washington had brought him to the meeting. "Trouble" was how he described him, and that was all too fitting.

"Thank you for doing this, Dolly. Ever since Martha died….I lost my touch when it came to raising children." He murmured,

"It's no problem at all, Mr. President." She pulled America's strand of hair the right way, and the boy went limp in her arms. "That's better, Alfred."

"Right, madam.….. Sorry madam.….." America groaned in pain as she tucked the stand back with a bobby pin.

"If you're late, young sir, I wonder if the Danes will even let you on their shores." Dolly teased the boy lightly, before getting up, and pushing the thirteen-year-old over to where Jefferson was standing.

Thomas knelt down and gripped the boy's shoulders tightly. "Remember America. You are an Ambassador until you are _sure_ you can trust them. Alfred, please listen to me, and try not to reveal yourself to anyone else."

The blond boy nodded with determination, giving himself whiplash. Mrs. Madison laughed quietly as he rubbed the back of his neck with a bit of regret for being foolishly impatient. He smiled wider though, pleased he had amused the older woman.

He said his farewells to the president and his Cabinet, and ran out to the carriage.

The little American got onto the carriage waiting outside for him, and dozed.

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America didn't even remember getting onto the ship. The elder, true ambassador picked him up and carried him. He slept through most of the trip as well.

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When he woke up, it was literally the second they had entered the docks. He sat up and practically threw on his breeches, actually sticking both of his legs in the same leg and falling over. The crash that resounded through the room woke the other Ambassador, who proceeded to help the American get dressed. America thanked the man profusely, and booked it out of there, and though the elder man yelled for him to wait, America did not listen. He wanted to know if Denmark would be anything like Netherlands.

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When America _finally _got off the ship, he ran on to the foreign land and ran straight into a strange looking man, who had been holding up a thirteen-starred American flag. He had almost spiky blond hair, and big, surprised blue eyes.

"Oh, I think you're the guy I'm supposed to be meeting with! Hi, I'm America, pleased to meet ya!" America cringed when he realized what he had just done.

Oh, for the love of God, Jefferson was going to _kill_ him for that! And then he would toss him around the room a little bit…. With George, Madison, and John, all waiting for him…. Actually, by the looks of it, the entire Continental Congress was going to be after him!

"Well, that's good, I guess." The young man stood up and looked over him, as the young America was patting his coat down nervously. "Since I am Denmark, we won't be having any problems."

America wrapped the elder man in a big hug, forcing the air out of the elder nation's lungs and hurting him, in much the same way he had always done with John, and when he was done, the elder was practically limp in his arms.

"Denmark? Denmark!? I didn't kill you, did I?" The American fretted over the spiky haired country.

Once Denmark had gained his breath, he took his battle axe out and glared scarily down at the young country. "No…. But I will _kill_ you!" He jumped suddenly, and began chasing the strong young country, arms outstretched to catch him.

The young America ran as fast as he could in circles, with the other Ambassador just standing to the side as he watched America almost get killed. The Danish ambassador came running behind where the elder nation had been, and shook his head.

"By the looks of it, they won't get anything done." The Danish ambassador said.

"You said it." Replied the American Ambassador.

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When Denmark finally calmed down enough to talk to, he sighed heavily. "If you go around making enemies like that America, you aren't going to last very long." All of a sudden, the northern country looked as if he had had an epiphany, looking at America-who looked pretty guilty, and was putting ice on his black eye (one that Denmark actually felt a little guilty for- before grabbing him by his waist and dragging the boy off to his house.

"H-Hey Denmark, you aren't going to go hide my body, are you?" America looked nervous, and Denmark decided to joke with him.

"No. I haven't figured out how I want to kill you yet!" Denmark grinned broadly at that, looking down at the boy with a friendly kind of insanity.

"Oh boy, because that's reassuring!" America cried out to the northern country.

Denmark just laughed. "Oh, come off it! I'm just playin' with ya kid!"

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Denmark plopped the boy down on a chair, and brought out his papers, to explain to America what exactly he needed to learn. England had most likely not explained anything to the boy, as he had intended to live with him. However, since America broke off from the blond empire, he was now going to have to learn all about what the elder had never taught him.

"Now then, I suppose you know at least a few other countries, right?" Denmark plopped down his big heavy "official" book of nations down on the desk in front of him.

America put a small hand against his face as he thought about that. "Hmmm…. I know England, France…. Netherlands…. Prussia….Sweden and Finland…." Denmark growled a little at that, still a little sore when they were mentioned, and America paused until he got his attention again. "Canada…and you!" The small boy laughed, and Denmark rubbed his hand down his face.

"England really wanted to stay with you, didn't he," Denmark muttered, and America made a questioning sound in the back of his throat. "Right, there are a lot of other nations out there, you know that, right? While you mostly got the important ones, you're missing a lot too."

America nodded, "But the thing is, they mostly don't recognize me as a country yet…." He looked forlorn, sighing softly.

Denmark grinned broadly at that. "Thing is, America…. You can use that as an advantage!" He laughed at his own ingenuity. "They'll never see you coming! You can hide yourself from them for years! Imagine the look on England's face when he sees that you can handle yourself!"

America was delighted at that. "That's perfect! I want to see England betrayed the same way he betrayed me! I'm not a stupid kid anymore!"

"Yep, kid, that's the spirit!" Denmark brought out a piece of parchment and drew a vague picture of Russia. "Now then, time for a little lesson on something called, 'Stranger Danger.'"

Denmark held the younger country rapt with his tales of all the other countries in the world, and America found that there was a lot of thing that were going to be against him, but as long as he stayed away from any long-term alliance, he would be alright.

Just like George told him.

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About two weeks after America had met the eccentric, possibly insane, northern country, it was time for him to go back to his house- and the poor, confused Ambassador walked in on a wrestling match between the two. Denmark held America in a tight hold around the boy's neck, and America was kicking the elder nation with everything he had.

"Alfred, it's time to go, we need to make it to the ship, lest they leave us both here."

In unison, the two nations spoke and groaned.

"Aw, do I really have to?"

"Does he really have to?"

The ambassador, thoroughly amused by the situation, nodded, and picked up the younger countries things and began to walk to the pier, knowing America would follow.

The two countries untangled themselves, and faced each other.

"Well, Denmark, I hope I can see you again soon!" America laughed, and Denmark grinned.

"I look forward to seeing you grow up, America." Denmark noogied him, and America laughed.

"Well, I gotta go!" America smiled, and ran out of there as fast as he could, leaving Denmark in a bit of a daze.

"I really look forward to it, don't I?" Denmark mused on the subject, and turned back into his home once the American had run out of his sight.

America was a young country, and as long as he was around, Denmark would be sure that the kid knew how to pretend he was an actual Ambassador. He had taught him well enough for him to be good for at least another couple decades.

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A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!


	3. England

Nations these Days

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback and attention!

Encounter 3: England truly wondered what that blond ruffian had to do with his once-colony.

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England was frantic. It was the first time in _years_ he had been here. Was America alright? Did he miss him? Did he think of England? Why had he closed himself off from everyone else? Why hadn't anyone seen him?

England, desperate to find the boy, ran off by himself into the cities of America.

While it was true he had been angry at him for a long while, he was more worried about his current state of affairs. So soon after England had been forced to let him go, he had a _civil war_? It was madness! It wasn't fair for the poor boy.

He was shocked to see so much work going on. Everything was _devastated_. As in, the state of the city was on the verge of completely destroyed. Farmer boys were working on both fields and rebuilding.

They hadn't been kidding him when they told him the American civil war represented an entirely new type of warfare.

He knew that America had experienced a civil war, but this was disturbing. He wanted to know that his little brother was alright. He _needed_ to know that he would one day be able to apologize to the younger nation.

England had learned a lot during his Industrial Revolution. He had been given a lot of time to think about his possessiveness over America. Naturally, he wasn't wrong, but he could see America's point now, at least.

His thought processes were interrupted as he ran into a teenager helping out rebuild the place.

"Watch where you're going, bloody git!" He had to look up to the face.

There were the eyes of a ragged and tired old man, but on the face of a young adult. He wore a pair of eyeglasses that were just the faintest bit cracked. His blond hair was a tangled mop on his head. He looked just a bit annoyed, but when he saw the British man's face, blue eyes brightened. England was flustered as the young man grinned humorously.

"Sorry, British dude…" England watched the boy shrug. "I was just going home- my shift's over…Been up all night." He laughed a bit, though it was quiet. Something about this boy was…. Familiar, but England couldn't quite place where he had seen him before.

England huffed. "Well, then…. I best be off to business."

"Mm? What kinda business?" The American asked with interest.

"Diplomatic." He said tersely, and walked off, before the young American man grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Whoa there, you're going the wrong way." England was a bit embarrassed at that.

"I'm trying to find the meeting place for the representatives. Can you help me… Um… I'm afraid I don't know you're name…. Who are you?"

"Ah… Another one of you guys, mm?" The American looked intensely into his eyes. "Alright then, guess I can show you where you need to be… My name's Alfred Jones; and I'll be your guide for today!"

"I-I'm Arthur Kirkland." England said after a moment of consideration. Alfred smiled at that.

"'Kay, so I am gonna warn you, the current Prez' is rather skittish, and Congress kinda doesn't like him, because he threw Lincoln's plans down the drain. Instead of going the long way that would help fix America up, he tried to go the easy route." At that Alfred grumbled a bit. "Anyway, you will be meeting an Ambassador, so don't be expecting anything fancy."

"How do you know all of this, if you're just a worker boy?" England asked, incredulous.

"Well, I'd say that I am a bit of a messenger boy, and I know all that the same way I know you aren't really human." It took a moment before either man realized what Alfred had just said. "shitshitSHIT!"

England stared at the young man. "So you know, then?" Alfred sighed, and nodded. "Then do you know of America?" He was desperate, and sure as _hell_ wasn't going to let this chance go.

"Wait…. What?" Alfred looked at the man like he had grown a second head, before cooling his expression. "Umm… I guess one might say I knew him…."

"Then could you take me to him?!" England had to make sure the younger nation was alright. Alfred looked slightly uncomfortable, so England explained. "I know he had a civil war, and those are hellish experiences." Alfred refused to look at him.

"Hey… He's not taking visitors right now, Arthur. Sorry." England was disappointed and just the slightest bit hurt.

"No, it's alright, I figured he wouldn't want to see me of all people right now…."

"But I'll tell him you were worried about him." Alfred still refused to meet his gaze, instead stopping in front of a big manor. "Listen… I gotta go now, this is your stop."

England was hesitant, but the blue eyed man pushed him in the direction of the manor.

"Go on, Arthur, they won't bite!" Alfred laughed as England blanched.

He slowly walked away from the young man, and wondered if he would truly pass the message off. England turned back to tell the young American goodbye, only to see that he was gone.

And still something tugged at the back of his mind that he couldn't quite place.

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America grinned cheekily as England walked away. He had so just pulled the cloth over England's eyes.

The battered nation knew that he couldn't hide forever, but as long as he could, he sure as hell would.

He wasn't in the best of shape, maybe, but he was still kicking- even if this whole thing was his fault, he couldn't give up- it would make Confederacy's death meaningless.

So he kept going. America disappeared out of the sight of the English man, so even if he turned around, he wouldn't see him.

America had to wonder why England hadn't recognized him. Even though he had obviously given himself away, multiple times, the British man seemed ignorant of his true identity. That was alright with him, even though it hurt that England didn't recognize him.

…..Perhaps America had to fix up his appearance a bit.

Yeah! That might have been it!

As he walked back into his destroyed southern states, he experienced fanciful thoughts in the likes of which he hadn't experienced since the end of the Revolution up 'til the War of 1812.

Maybe one day, he and England could be together, nation beside nation- with no war or revolution between them.

Maybe, one day, he could actually call England his friend again.

….

Nah.

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	4. Switzerland

Nations these Days

Encounter 4: Switzerland approves of his neutrality, but disapproves of his hesitance. America- speak up!

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Switzerland was cranky- The kind where fumes were rising from his ears and he was stomping around noisily as he did his work.

He was generally annoyed with the rest of Europe at this point in time.

Particularly France, Austria, and Hungary. Oh, how he wanted to kill them, putting all this stress on him!

_Especially_ France- even if only because of Napoleon- Switzerland wanted to shoot the perverted nation, multiple times, in his _vital regions!_ That would teach the French man to stay the hell away from his territory!

Austria, though Switzerland still hated him, had helped him out in getting rid of the French influence in him, and for that, Switzerland supposed that he might have earned some respect back for the fellow German nation.

But then there was the fact that Austria had gone and married Hungary!

You see, Switzerland was in the middle of a restoration period. That should have said everything in two words.

Restoration was hell. It always was, for nations like him. They taxed the body and the mind, as they didn't know quite what path they needed to choose to continue. It was a choice. You could go with the flow, if your people were ready to move on, or you could feel split apart by the sheer agony of your people rebelling against the coming change.

In short- it was torture for him, because his aristocrats were being picky, and even though they had gotten everything straightened up again, their way of life was destined to fail.

The only real good thing about this period in his life was the sense of patriotism growing in his people. They were coming to all truly be proud of being Swiss. It gave him strength, when his people believed in him, and in their country.

But, he was angry, because he had to work a lot now more than ever.

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One day in the late 1820's, however, he spotted a young and able boy that looked a bit down, even though he was watching Switzerland with curious blue eyes. He just looked a bit injured, but looked well on the way to healing. Perhaps he had been injured in the Napoleonic Wars?

"Well, are you going to say something to me, or just stand there? Speak if you want to say something!" Switzerland snapped at the boy, who literally jumped four feet into the air, and booked it out of his home.

"Hmmm…" Switzerland said quietly to himself as he watched the boy's disappearing figure. "Maybe I shouldn't have snapped at him?"

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The next day however, the boy was there again. Switzerland got a nice good look at him. Dirty blond hair was shaggy on his head, and he had a pair of blue eyes that seemed to have seen wars. It was a likely thing, as it was only recently that Europe had _stopped_ fighting, though it did pain him a bit to think a _child_ had to see such horrible things.

Switzerland vowed silently to himself to shoot France the next time he saw him.

But, Switzerland was again surprised by the boy when he started speaking in the mother tongue.

"H-Hello? I don't understand German…. Can we talk like this?"

The mother tongue was a language spoken by all nations since birth, to help them communicate with one another. No one knew which country knew it first, but it was for as long as any of them could remember.

"You're a nation." Switzerland stated in the same tongue. The boy nodded, shakily.

"Who are you?" He asked the boy, while squinting his eyes at him, trying to see if he recognized the face.

"U-um… That doesn't matter…." The blond-haired boy seemed unsure of this, though.

"Of course it matters! State your opinion loudly; otherwise you'll get left behind!" Switzerland tried to corner the boy.

"I-I… My boss told me I shouldn't tell anyone… He… told me I shouldn't come here anymore… but… I was told that you were neutral a lot….so…" The boy looked down, unsure of what Switzerland would do.

The Swiss nation froze. "You are declaring neutrality?" He questioned. The boy made an affirmative noise.

"Well…. Kinda…" The boy looked unsure. "I'm not sure if it could be called that, but it's something like that…"

Switzerland closed his green eyes. "All right- I suppose I won't ask for your name."

The boy smiled happily up at him. "Thanks!"

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For a few years, things went like that. The boy, who dubbed himself 'Al', came by to see him every couple years. Switzerland eventually grew to like his quiet presence, although he was a whirlwind whenever he was worried, anxious, or sad.

One year, the boy started randomly wearing a pair of glasses. He was told they represented a new piece of territory.

It was an odd thought that something that was removable-like glasses- could be a piece of land. Usually, it was a strand of hair, or a mole, or a birthmark- something that couldn't be changed about a nation.

For example- Austria's curl represented Mariazell. Switzerland had heard that Italy's nipple represented Corsica, one of his islands.

Al just shrugged it off, smiling. "I wasn't born with it! So it's detachable!"

It continued as an easy going relationship, just Al and Switzerland.

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Until that day when he didn't come- He had said that he would, but he didn't. Switzerland was a bit worried for Al.

The year was 1848.

His new boss, Jonas Furrer, called him to Bern, his new capitol.

Although he didn't want to leave his workplace-in case Al came by- he had to obey his boss.

He sighed as he made his way toward his new heart.

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"Hey! Switzerland!" The blond German nation's green eyes widened as he saw Al here, in Bern. "Told you I'd be here!"

"Al!" Switzerland made a beeline for the younger nation, stopping practically right on top of him. "What are you doing in Bern, of all places?!"

"America…?" An ambassador was watching them from the entrance of the official office.

Switzerland froze mid-rant, and Al squirmed under the ambassador's gaze.

"You are America?" He asked Al, who didn't look at him while he nodded.

"Speak up!" Switzerland demanded of the boy. "You are the nation that defeated England! You aren't going to be lost to history!"

Al-or more accurately- America straightened up. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"That's more like it!" Switzerland conceded with approval.

The ambassador spoke up from the background. "America, you know that President Polk isn't going to like this…"

America looked afraid for a second, before saying defiantly, "Well, I think he'll be a bit mad at first, but after that he won't mind. After all!" He wrapped a thin arm around Switzerland's shoulder. "We're both neutral for now!"

Switzerland had to give the younger nation a faint smile.

But, something in his gut told him that he'd regret telling the nation to speak his mind.

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End file.
